Morbid Sunrise
by Young Cub
Summary: Merlin has always known where he's come from. Exactly where he comes from. When his past begins to infect the present, and his friends begin to enter his world, he faces a hard choice. How much will be exposed in the revelation? Welcome to Faerie... Merlin/Wicked Lovely Crossover; Maybe Spoilers up to and including Series 5;AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Merlin and Wicked Lovely don't belong to me. **

**A/N:**** Hello! This is (hopefully) going to be multi-chaptered and I hope it's good. It's a Merlin and Wicked Lovely crossover. I'm not sure if it has spoilers for Wicked Lovely, but just to be on the cautious side, I'll say it does. It will almost certainly have spoilers for Merlin unless I miraculously don't mention any previous episodes, which is a task in it's self ;).**

**Unbetaed, so it'll probably be riddled with mistakes, so just watched out for them, and try not to let my bad spelling and/or grammer distract you from the pleasure of reading.**

**Hope you enjoy! **

**Cub xxx**

* * *

**Prologue**

The stillness of the fae was unnerving, unsettling, unnatural, but he stayed silent and tried to not gnash his teeth in aggravation. High Court fae were the worst. It galled him that he had to sink this low, that he had to escape, and he chastised himself from not seeing it, seeing what he was, what Irial was grooming him to be. Sorcha was his last chance, and he was going to take it, damn the consequences. Even if he was damning himself in the process.

A shift in the fae and he tensed imperceptibly. She was here. He felt her presence, the everlasting calm of Unchanging that was the High Queen. He shook it off. Her confusion was palpable and he smirked inwardly, letting himself lick his lips slightly in indulgence. It was delicious as he drank it down. He gained a glimpse of her shock that he took greedily before she slammed up her barriers further, losing what little warmth had managed to sneak into her expression.

Pity. She was fun to play with.

Sorcha strode forward and he kept form as she came to stop in front of him. Her Bloody Right Hand stood slightly behind her and he tilted his head in acknowledgment of the threat. Devlin was a dangerous faery and he would have loved to of gone against him. The blood, the rush, the viscious ruthlessness he knew Devlin hid deep down. It would of been...glorious.

Too bad he would no longer be part of this world. For the better.

He drew his eyes back to the Queen. Calm personified, in an entity. Like a statue in a city center, she was striking. But deadly, powerful, and one who held the world at her fingertips inside Faerie. She ruled here. Her will was the way, and only her will existed. As Dark Court, he was unwelcome here, and he was feeling the urge to cause chaos, and challenge her like he knew he could. The High Court wasn't the only court that once held sway in Faerie. But he couldn't, wouldn't. Not when he needed her help. Not when he was so close to escape.

Not when he had a sure-fire way to keep his secrets. Not even the all-knowing High Queen could know.

Nobody.

Even family.

He shook out of his thoughts and focused. Nothing could go wrong. Nothing.

"Gabriel," Sorcha greeted. The room shifted and the court, along with Devlin, disappeared like whispers of mist, dispersing with a faint breeze. He was pleased; she was going to be magnanimous. This wasn't a conversation to air in public.

"Emrys," He corrected. He savored the confusion that didn't show. Her face was stone. Fitting. "I am Gabriel-No-More, Queen Sorcha. It would please me for you to call me Emrys. I haven't had the pleasure of my name on your lips for years, my lady."

"Emrys, then. May I inquire as to the cause, Emrys? I have received no word from the Dark Court as to a demotion, and you certainly aren't dead. It's a...intriguing puzzle."

"Certainly." He smiled blandly. He wasn't going to offer information when even the threads failed Sorcha. He was too close to her; she couldn't see him. It was a blessing in disguise and one he exploited much to her chagrin. It was fun being him. But not for much longer.

"As much as I enjoy our pleasantries, High Queen, I am not here to parse words with you."

"Oh?" She said innocently. How he hated her sometimes. She was always more playful; emotional, when Dark Court were there. But she was devious with it. She wanted him to bend his neck. And, hell, he was almost willing to. Almost.

"Cease Sorcha, I have never, and will never submit to you. You have been trying for years. It will end." The words were rote, and he had said them before. But they were true, as evidenced by the way they passed his lips. It was Truth. Yet it was Logic that would not listen. Infuriating.

"Well then, Emrys of the Dark Court, Gabriel-No-More, what is it you seek from the High Court? By the very definition of your affiliations you are not welcome here, yet I permit you. Speak now, for I will not be so lenient for so long." Sorcha intoned. He felt like gritting his teeth; her insistence of standing on ceremony was irritating at the best of times. Now was not a time to be so facetious.

He persevered, however.

"Sorcha, Queen of the High Court, I come here to seek something precious." he said, keeping his gaze off her and around the room. The amount of grey was dull and boring, and he never knew there were so many shades. The detail he could see was subtle, incredibly so. He would be hard-pressed to believe that any but the most observant fey could see and appreciate the pictures. He would of been touched she remembered his taste of bloody art if not for he knew she also was partial to the drawings. Magyk needed Blood after all, even if most forgot.

"What is it you seek, dear Emrys?" she said disinterestedly. He would've been fooled but he knew her too well. He grew up with her. He kept silent for a few seconds, musing on his choices, on what drove him here. It would be relief, but first he needed to convince her. He gathered himself, then just as she was about to demand his reasons he offered them.

"I wish to become mortal,"

The sudden shock he felt confirmed his beliefs - he had blindsided her. He knew he had, but it was nice to confirm his suspicions. He rarely came out on top in their interactions, more since he had left for Solitude, but it was still an exciting novelty. He drank down his prize. High Court emotions were so sustaining. He closed his eyes in pleasure, and then centered them on her face.

Her mask had fallen. The shock was plain to see on her marble face and he kept his face blank in contrast. He would give no hints to his reasons. The threads were not kind in that action.

"Why?" she said faintly, once she had gained composure. Her mask had fell so easily that she was embarrassed at her indiscretion, but the presence of Dark Court always lead to an influx in emotions, especially from Bananach - War. And especially from the embodiment of Magyk.

"Whatever could you want as a mortal? You are fey! A powerful one, what could ever allure you to become a mortal? What insane idea has infected your mind like a plague?"

"My reasons are my own Sorcha," he returned. He would not be seen as weak. "Will you do it or not?"

"No one can become mortal, it's impossible," She dismissed his ideas in an instant, but she forgot who she was talking too.

"You can make fey from mortals. I know you can make a mortal out of fae."

His words were held strung out in the silence that encompassed. He knew she could do it. He knew everything. It's what made him so dangerous. That and countless other acts he had committed all in the name of his King and Court. They did well to fear him now, for he no longer acted under the banner of Court and King. It's what made Sorcha so frightened to give him this, for she knew he had a plan - How could he not? But she didn't know of it, the details, the machinations and that galled. All fey were tricky, they played word games and fought to win. It was weakness to lose. And rulers were not weak.

"Tell me your reasons, and I will decide whether to perform this...perversion." He almost laughed at her wording and the evidence of the arrogance of fey. One of the reasons he was glad he would soon be free from this body. A chance to learn humility. He glided forward on silent feet, the predator stalking his prey. His eyes glinted and he knew the spark was there. The spark that many called insanity. He called it mischief.

He leaned into her in a mockery of a familiar hug and put his mouth to her ear. It was a gross misconduct and he knew she could smite him, would have smote another. But she never could hurt Blood. Sentiment. He would love to get to know it.

"Why tell you?" he smirked against her ear, whispering in mockery of secrets told. "When I could show you?"

He pulled back, the shadows rose.

Dark. Silent. Still. Boring.

Then the screams erupted in the air and he felt himself smiling at Blood, while his inside seethed in self-hate.

The battlefield had grown, and the blood was starting to pour...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! Here's another chapter of Morbid Sunrise. Tell me what you think!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Cub xxx**

* * *

**Chapter One**

When Merlin shot up out of bed the first thing he did was survey the room to ensure that he was still in Camelot. It was ritual, and it was reassuring. They had not found him, they couldn't touch him. He was free.

It always brought a smile to his face, a slight one, tension filled and barely touching his lips, but it was there. Freedom was pleasure, and a luxury he reveled in. He remembered how it got to this, how he became mortal, reborn. Small and frail, he grew into a magical powerhouse. It was funny that he got more powerful when trying to be less. The compensation was also more dangerous than staying fey, with magic punishable by death. Ironic. He doesn't like to think about it.

He glanced at the window and saw the peach of sunrise struggling to stand up over the horizon. That, accompanied by the tug he felt was enough to know it was time to work.

Merlin got out of bed and got dressed, his neckerchief sliding around his neck, smoothed down and straightened. When finished, he strode out of his room and headed to the kitchens for His Royal Pratness's breakfast.

He didn't acknowledge the presence of meandering Hawthorn Girls as he maneuvered around the freezing halls of the castle.

Remember the Rules.

He knocked on the door of Arthur's chambers, rubbing his chest lightly while he waited to be admitted. When the final 'Come In' was called, he opened the door and walked into his chambers.

Despite it being just past dawn, Arthur was already up. It was a habit that was becoming more frequent now, than it was at the start of his reign. The pressures had mounted with reports of Morgana, and her armies, in hiding, and the other concerns raised by the council and the Round Table. The lines on his face had deepened, which spoke loudly of his tiredness more than anything else. The tension in Arthur at Merlin's presence was evidenced by the tensed shoulders, and Merlin shoved away the slight hurt that manifested when he saw it. What else was he expecting?

"Ahh, Merlin!" Arthur said, looking up from his scroll to see who has come in. He appeared to be happy to see Merlin, if his smile was anything to go by, but Merlin knew him too well. He knew what he had done and its consequences more than anyone.

"On time for once?" Arthur asked, slightly mocking.

Merlin kept his face bland, as was rote. "Your breakfast, sire," He murmured deferentially.

The shoulders tightened more.

"Set it on the table, I'll eat it in a minute. Pour some wine would you?"

Merlin inclined his head, while inwardly pursing his lips. Wine and Arthur were not a good combination, in any situation. Especially with a council meeting this morning. It was the reason he would want it, liquid courage, but it would hardly incite any sound judgement. And those councilmen could be so tedious and boring. It was like they walked around with a backboard, or something stuck up their ass. No. This wouldn't do.

As Merlin poured the wine his eyes flashed and the watered down wine hit the bottom of the goblet. He moved away when Arthur finished with the scrolls and sat down. Merlin walked over to tidy up the desk, and knew immediately when Arthur discovered the wine. He felt the eyes calculating him intently, and he shivered minutely.

"Weak wine, today Merlin," Arthur said lightly with a dark glint in his eye. Not pleased then. Merlin slightly flinched at the ache that started to act up at his words, and then turned to his master, keeping his eyes on the floor.

He glanced up as he answered, "Bad berries, mi 'lord." Cheeky. Playful. Mischievous. Facade Broken.

"Merlin"

The word was a warning, but light, and he knew what Arthur wanted. But who cared what he wanted?

"Would you like me to fetch you more, sire?" he said. He wasn't going to give an inch.

He sighed in that way that almost makes Merlin give in makes him almost flinch, but he stays stoic. The perfect servant.

"Merlin, I've told you before I don't -"

"Would you like me to fetch you more, sire?" Merlin interrupted. He felt in no mood for a lecture, and by the way Arthur's face shuttered flat, it seemed he was in no mood for Merlin's attitude. It was happening more often lately, but Arthur didn't understand. His fealty was given. He did what he had to do.

Arthur calmly continued eating, paying no attention to Merlin, or his remark. He answered though, once finished.

"No, Merlin, it's alright. But the stable needs cleaning, the horse grooming, my armour polished, my sword sharpened, pay attention to any cracks, I have training today, and the clothes need taking to the laundry."

"Sire," he said dipping his head in acknowledgement.

"Oh, and my room needs cleaning as well. I trust that's enough to be getting on with?" Arthur's voice was pleasant, but his face hard and Merlin suddenly felt a pang for the old days. When Arthur would tease, and banter, and there wouldn't be this tension now that Merlin knew he caused. But it was necessary, and Arthur needed to be safe. Even from the secrets Merlin held deep.

"Of course, sire," He put in extra effort to make the word emotionless. It was almost worth it to see Arthur flinch. Almost.

"Splendid. Meet me on the training field when you are done, with my sword. And try to get there before midday; I want my training to be actually decent."

Merlin didn't respond, but nodded his head at the jab then added insult to injury and bowed when Arthur stalked out the room, with his back straight and puffed up like an insulted cat. It took so little to get him riled. He made sure he didn't look at the shadows that tripped him up when he went to collect the breakfast dishes. After all, there were no such things as faeries.

* * *

When Arthur strode onto the training fields the first thing he did was look for his manservant, and hoped that the idiot was late. But he wasn't. He was present, his back straight, head down, and standing just off to this side. If he didn't know that messy mop of a head of his, he'd of mistaken him for a normal, attentive servant. It was annoying.

But Arthur actually wanted to get some training in before his knights returned and he was confined for another several hours with debriefs, reports and tactics on what was going on at Camelot's borders. At HIS borders.

He smiled at that thought. They were his, this was his kingdom, and he was damned well going to keep his subjects safe from danger. They were his, and he cared for them. Even when they were distancing themselves in an attempt to ignore certain topics that needed to be talked about. He mentally prepared himself when he approached Merlin. His attitude was irritating at best and downright insolent at worst. He wanted his goofy, sarcastic manservant back, who didn't care for social rules, and wouldn't have bowed him out of a room, even at his most respectful.

That was complete insolence on Merlin's part, and he wasn't fooled. It was his version of an insult, and by god it actually hurt. It was a wonder he bothered to make friends in the first place. They knew all the best ways to strike you were it hurt most.

"Your sword, sire," Merlin offered.

Arthur just nodded his head and took the sword, then strode over towards the training knights. He tried to put the issue of Merlin away from his mind while he drilled, battered and conquered his knights, training them till they, and consequently himself, felt they were an inch away from succumbing to exhaustion and fainting on the fields. It was always therapeutic to train, and it cleared his mind till all that was left was thrust, parry, dodge, strike, and the repetitive movements helped to ground him, and focus him till there were no room for any stray thoughts to enter his head.

The downside of that was they all came flooding back the minute he saw Merlin. He groaned inwardly, then grew determined. If Merlin wanted to be awkward about this, then fine. But as far as Arthur was concerned, there was no need to go as far as Merlin had gone. It was a perfectly valid request, and if Merlin was blowing this out of proportion, then Arthur would just have to be firm. He would also have to get Merlin to open up more about his little secret, because he got the feeling there was a lot more to his little jaunts, tavern visits and misleading lies then first seemed. Easier said than done.

But Arthur was determined. 'I will get him to talk,' he thought as he got up from where he had been resting, to rally the knights for another bout, the groans of the men audible, but he ignored them. 'I'll get him to talk.'

He then raised his sword, threw all thoughts of Merlin out of his mind and attacked.

* * *

The return of the knights was a welcome distraction from the monotony of the days in Camelot. Ever since that day when Arthur determined to get Merlin to talk, there had been a distinct increase in subservience from Merlin that Arthur didn't like one bit.

Every time Arthur tried to get Merlin to share his adventures, his secrets, he was met with a blank look and a "_Is there anything else, sire_?" In turn, this made Arthur feel even more annoyed at Merlin's evasiveness than he was already, and he became harder and colder towards him, even if he was trying to get Merlin to just talk to him.

It resulted in him being more snappish and demanding, and Merlin being even more submissive in retaliation. He almost wanted to give in this attempt at getting to know his manservant and just go back to ignoring his magic.

But his conscience just couldn't do that. It was screaming at him that magic is wrong, that Merlin was evil because he possessed it, but that was just unthinkable and frankly ridiculous, as Merlin was as evil as a fluffy kitten (which means very little) but he could be a vicious little bugger when he wanted to be, and puffed up his tail when annoyed. But he just felt that there was something Merlin wasn't telling him. Add that to the obvious use of magic Merlin was doing, and Arthur was afraid Merlin was going to get hurt. That Arthur might be forced to hurt him, kill him, because no matter if Arthur was ignoring the blatant use of magic by Merlin, as long as it was subtle, the laws of Camelot still stood, and magic was punishable by death.

Arthur feared the day he might have to build the pyre and burn Merlin alive to please Camelot.

He had to shake those thoughts of fire and screams from his mind as he strode in all his finery to greet his returning knights, with Merlin at the requisite two steps behind and slightly to the right, as all servants did. Arthur purposefully didn't look at him.

There had been previous reports of disappearances and strange happenings in the night around Camelot's border, and he had sent patrols out to investigate. Every appearance of magic had to be investigated, even if it was a hoax. He felt he was fairer than Uther, his father though, for he didn't see evil behind every magic act and he didn't act until he had indisputable evidence. He tried to be fair. He felt he succeeded even though the guilt of what he did weighed down on him when he looked at Merlin during executions. He made sure Merlin was otherwise occupied these days. It spared him the feeling of blood on his hands. Arthur sometimes imagined he could see it dripping to the floor. Such was the burdens of a king.

The sound of beating hooves broke through his morbidness, and he was brought back out his musings. The knights, his Round Table, galloped into the courtyard, and came to a stop in front of the king. The manes of the majestic horses flew around them as they clambered neatly off the backs of the horses, handing the reigns to the stable hands that came out to take them away.

"Princess!" came the greeting from the rugged knight. His hair was still long, to his shoulders, and he the air of amusement around him, accompanied by an ever present grin. He privately bet that as soon as he was done with debriefing his knights, he would be at the tavern trying to sway the pretty tavern girls into his bed. Sometimes Gwaine was ever so predictable. Which was, to be honest, something he needed right now, with Merlin acting the way he was.

The knight swaggered up to the steps, joined by his best friend, Percival, who was as quiet as ever.

"Gwaine, I've asked you not to call me that!"

"Ah, but sire," was the mocking reply, sarcasm literally dripping from the polite form of address. Merlin would have been proud, if he was acting normally. "You've got to be reminded of your humble beginnings, right, Elyan?"

"Aye, sire," said the grinning knight, coming up to stand beside Gwaine at the foot of the steps. "Can't have you gaining too big head can we?"

"Now, now," Leon said, as he finished sorting out his packs from the horse. "Leave the king alone. It's not his fault that his head is outside of normal proportions. Hello, Merlin!" he greeted.

Merlin inclined his head towards the knight, but didn't say anything, and kept his eyes respectfully a few degrees over the shoulders of the knights. Arthur stifled an exasperated sigh. The knights just looked confused.

"Are you alright, Merlin?" Gwaine asked. Normally his friend was rambling Arthur's ear of in whispers and joking with the rest. He had a feeling there was something off, and his posture wasn't helping. It looked like something one of the boot-licking servants he was always assigned did, and it was freaky to be seeing Merlin bowing his head to anybody. Just plain wrong, in Gwaine's opinion.

"Perfectly fine, Sir Gwaine," Merlin said softly.

The concerned looks didn't abate, and Arthur decided to end it here, before the knights did anything stupid. He sent Merlin away to do the rest of his chores, and gestured the knights to follow him. He directed them towards the council chambers, determined to get the debrief over and done with before anything else. He deflected any concerns about Merlin, citing that 'The walls have ears', a phrase apt, but which also pushed him further into a bad mood as it was a phrase Merlin had said back before the revelation. It was not a good start to the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**** Hello! It's Young Cub again! Here's my second chapter of Morbid Sunrise. Tell me what you think!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Cub xxx**

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**Chapter**** 2**

The sounds of the Throne Room trickled like a brook out of the walls, the voices all patiently waiting for the king. The room was grand with impressive columns and wide space, dominated by a dark wooden table cut into a circle. The Round Table that made up King Arthur's most trusted and loyal advisors be they knight, scholar or even guard. The large ornate doors, a relic from Uther's taste, and often to ostentatious for Merlin to look at before shaking his head at them and snorting in his mind.

For all Merlin had lived in Camelot for over a decade, he was still a farm boy at heart. He hated the ostentatious. It just seemed silly posturing to him. He had even less times for the politics of court, and standing around waiting for Arthur was really, quite annoying. Especially when he was stood in a draughty alcove just of the main table, which was still covering with spiders webs.

Arthur was late, or later than the rest of them. But everyone came early to Round Table meeting anyway. It was awe inspiring the level of devotion and love Arthur inspired in his people. Those lucky enough to of gained a seat, usually sat at the table. It was the highest honour in Camelot nowadays and it was a bit of a giggle to think of several nobles who acted nonchalant when the Table came into a discussion, but their eyes burnt with jealousy.

Merlin never advertised the fact that he had been invited to sit at Arthur's right hand and declined.

He remembered the incident, remembered how Arthur looked hurt, so hurt, back before his secret had been revealed. But it wasn't right, and he didn't really want to be in the line of fire of nobles. He'd had to explain to Arthur about servant politics; about how easier it would be to gain help if he wasn't alleviated above his station, about how awkward it would be justifying it to nobles. To be honest, half of what came out of his mouth was rubbish, things he'd made up, still valid concerns, but lesser than what he made out. But it prevented him from saying I don't want the betrayal to be any bigger. It would have been a nightmare if it came out that Arthur had put a sorcerer in the Round Table. And in the meantime it spared him the looks of nobles and the outraising of the servants. Win-Win.

He was brought back to the present when the doors banged open, and the King himself walked in, with the returning knights, and Gwen, at his side. She was always determined to come to these meetings, and always had good ideas. She was a great queen, and Merlin thought she was one to follow. He had half toyed with the idea of pledging fealty to the court instead of just Arthur because of how much she loved her people. She was one of a kind, and, he felt a bit guilty for thinking this, always drew fire from him when he and Arthur were in one of their spats. She was a saint, was Gwen. As one, the table stood, back straight, protocol perfect, and bowed to him as he walked towards the open spot opposite the doors. The knights joined him at the table, in the open spots.

Merlin straightened up, and edged slightly out of his hiding space, but still didn't move to his usual spot. He could see Gwaine look around the hall for him covertly, and he rolled his eyes. Gwaine's covert was as obvious as someone cracking every twig in the forest. He caught his eyes, and held them for a second, before deliberately spreading a blank expression on his face, making his eyes go vacant and his face slack. He let his eyes settle over the hall, and ignored Gwaine's confusion at the gesture, but really. For all Gwaine proclaimed he was a peasant he was noble raised and it showed, at the oddest and most ignorable times, but it showed. He knew what normal protocol for a servant of lower rank and he should draw the conclusion that Merlin was annoying Arthur in some way. He'd done it before, the acting like a normal servant thing, so it wasn't new. He just wondered how Gwaine was thinking something was seriously wrong, because he knew that expression. It was the 'Oh-dear-something-serious-happened-and-I'm-going- to-figure-out-why'. He wanted to know how he'd set of Gwaine's alarms. Then how to restore them to rights. Merlin couldn't have curious knights poking around his secrets, could he?

"I call the meeting to order! The Round Table Council is now in session! What are the primary concerns?"

"The patrol back from the border, the sightings of shadows in the nearby villages and the new sickness that seems to be happening in the lower town," Gaius replied.

"What of this sickness?" Arthur asked, confused, "I've not heard about it."

"The victims seem to be experiencing symptoms of nausea, sickness, hallucinations and some seem to be depressed, just wasting away. There is no indication of where the symptoms come from, and I'm beginning to doubt it's an illness, as it only seems to be affecting the, pardon me for saying, sire, the aesthetically pleasing." Gaius replied, gravely.

Merlin perked up at that and crept slightly closer. If he didn't know any better, than he would of thought it was a ganac... but no, no Dark fey would of dared come to Camelot, the only ones he ever saw were Winter fey or passing solitaries. Every other fey didn't bother, as it was almost a sure fire way of being killed, especially in Uther's reign, and still in Arthur's. He kept an eye on the population, never overt, just glances, making sure they weren't doing anything terrible. Apart from the Hawthorn Girls he'd seen earlier today, (and wasn't that kind of nerve-wracking as Merlin knew they followed the Winter Queen around. He especially didn't want Beira in Camelot) he hadn't seen a faery in Camelot for years. He'd assumed they'd kept away. Smart, but if the Dark Court were in Camelot, he didn't want to think what that might spell for Camelot. Gancanghs especially, as the only gancangh he knew was Irial and that was a frightening prospect indeed.

"I see," said Arthur, as Merlin tuned back in. "Keep at it and try and find the source, Gaius. I don't want an epidemic and we need our people healthy."

"Yes, sire,"

"The shadows?"

The meeting continued. It was a range of issues from farmers disputes, to who had insulted who, and, to Merlin's ears at least, sounded half like a gossip session of the scandals in the court. Of course, Merlin kept that opinion to himself, and also left an ear open to the issues. Arthur had the annoying habit of pouncing on Merlin after the meetings and having him recite various points from the session, with the threat of stables and double chores if he didn't reply promptly. After at least an hour debating the food stores in which Merlin was slowly drifting off, they came to the issue of the patrol.

"The patrol from Camelot's borders returned today, Can I hear the report from them, please?" Arthur said.

"Of course, sire," said Leon, standing up. He was always the one to five the reports as he could be relied on to be prompt, to the point, and not go off on tangents (Elyan), be too brief (Percival), or start on some anecdote of some random event that happened on the trip which always seemed to, curiously, contain a tavern and at least one 'beauty' (Obvious). He sometimes wondered if Gwaine knew the location of every damn tavern in the Five Kingdoms. He seemed to have enough stories for it.

"The borders were quiet for the first three days of our patrol. There were no disturbances, and we saw villagers going about their usual business. However on the fourth day, there were murmurs from the village we passed through that there was attacks happening at night, and children disappearing. We staked out the village at night, and we saw figures passing through the village. We engaged them, but then it gets hazy. "

"Hazy?" Arthur interrupted.

"None of us really remember what happened or who attacked us. It's like a blur. For that reason, we suspect magic was used to confuse the men. We lost no men in the attack, but several ended up injured. We ended up with men with lacerations, open wounds and broken bones. We healed up most of the men, by the end of the patrol."

"Why didn't you come back immediately? There must have been far superior care here, and I should have been notified immediately." Arthur demanded. It was something he insisted on. Patrols were often unequipped to deal with large threats, and any large attack was cause for the patrol to be immediately sent back to Camelot. He wanted the knights ready, and alive. There was no point killing themselves for some glory, which will only end in them killed. Merlin thought that was Arthur in a nutshell, though he tried to hide it. Caring.

Guinevere moved her hand to cover Arthur's and squeezed it once in sympathy and a reminder to calm down. It did no one good to be stressed and worried. Also, if this was what Merlin thought it was, which his suspicions were slowly being confirmed every passing sentence, they will really need to keep a calm head. And Merlin, he thought privately, should be prepared for the fire that erupted in his veins. He really hated it when he was under fealty. But Arthur was worth it, no matter how prattish he was being at the moment.

"Our injuries were not that severe, sire, but we did try to retreat to Camelot after the attack, but we were caught."

"Caught?"

Leon hesitated, obviously unsure of what he was going to say next. "I'm not sure how to describe it, sire. It was like we were in a trance, relaxed and not caring. We seemed to dance for ages, and it only felt like minutes. I'm sure it was magical, sire, that's all I can say. We don't know what happened." Arthur considered this, and looked deeply in thought, but Merlin felt a growing horror creep up on him.

It sounded like Summer Court, but the Summer Court wasn't that powerful after what Irial did to Keenan. If it was though, he had no idea of what the Courts were doing in Camelot. Did they think now was the time to settle down in Camelot? Were they crazy? He hadn't an idea of what they were planning.

The courts were never close to each other, other than times of war, or ridiculous peace, which he doubted had settled in the time he grew up. He had to protect Arthur, forget the distance, now was more important than ever. Fey were tricky, and Arthur couldn't go trampling with the fey, or he'd die, turn fey or...he didn't even want to go down the route of what would happen of the Dark Court got Arthur.

It was too horrible to imagine.

* * *

Arthur, mind occupied, walked back to his rooms. This incident on patrol worried him. It was like nothing he had ever come across before, and he didn't know what could even cause the dizziness and loss of time. He had a sudden thought, then swiftly redirected his route, and headed to Gaius's room. The physician was the advisor his father always relied on for his observations on magic, being a reformed magic practitioner himself. He hoped that Gaius might have some answers to his questions. He doubted it though. He had a lot of questions. He arrived at the door, and knocked politely, before entering. He was met with a blast of shimmering mist, and coughed when it went into his lungs. His hacking drew the attention of the physician who was coughing violently as well.

"S...Sire," Gaius managed to gasp out. "Wh...What b...brings you he...here, mi 'lord?" "I'm...I'm, "he coughed once, then managed to compose himself. "I wanted to see if you had any information about the creatures that attacked the patrol. Any reference at all?"

"Hmm," Gaius looked deep in thought for a second, then turned towards his bookshelf scanning it. From where he was stood, Arthur could make out titles such as 'Common Ills', 'Antidotes for Poisons', and, memorably, 'The Book of Medicine for the Hard of Mind'. He chuckled inwardly at that one and noted to himself to tell Leon. It was sure to gain a chuckle. He watched Gaius select several books and walk over to the bench. He followed curiously. The books all seemed to be on magical creatures of some sort. The books were plain covered and bound in leather. Quite expensive. He must have saved for ages to get them.

When opened, a cloud of dust flew out, sending Gaius into another coughing fit. Arthur had the foresight to duck out of the way quickly to prevent the attack. He moved over again and took in the pages that flipped by as Gaius lovingly turned them, delicately as if each one was only a second away from breaking.

There were many vivid illustrations, from wyverns, to dragons, to trolls (and did that one bring back some memories; he shuddered remembering his stepmother). He watched as Gaius switched from book to book, sometimes muttering to himself, then going back to the shelf for another book to reference.

"Well?" Arthur finally burst, impatient after some minutes when all Gaius did was stare vacantly. Gaius blinked then looked at Arthur as if he didn't remember when he got there. Arthur rolled his eyes inside his mind. Sometimes, he thought Gaius really was getting old.

"I'm perplexed, sire. I surely remember reading about creatures that stole children, but there seems to be no reference in any of the books. It was a long time ago, and I'm not too sure. I believe it was related to the Sidhe though," he tailed off, and then suddenly rushed over to another book. When he returned he flipped through it furiously, then stopped and read the page carefully, then turned over. Arthur watched as Gaius let out a noise of rage, and his face turned thunderous. He took a slight step back. He didn't want to get on the end of a Gaius on a rampage. He might get a dose of horrible remedy. That was enough to make him wary.

"What is it Gaius?" he asked, gently, trying not to spook him and set him off. By the dirty look Gaius gave him he guessed that Gaius wasn't impressed. He smiled sheepishly.

"There is reference to the Sidhe, sire," Gaius began.

"Sidhe?" Arthur interrupted. "You mentioned them before, but I don't know who they are."

"Sorry, sire. I'm used to talking to Merlin about them. I'll explain." Gaius said, distractedly. Arthur was suddenly blindsided by the mention of

Merlin. Gaius talked to Merlin about magic? About the Sidhe? It made sense, but Arthur wondered exactly what Merlin had used his magic for. It was a question he hadn't considered, as he hadn't really gotten past the 'Oh-my-god-Merlin-has-magic' phase, and still trying to process exactly what Merlin was. A friend? Servant? Traitor? Was he loyal? Or did his magic corrupt? Was his fealty no more than lip service? He didn't know, but put thoughts out of his mind. He had magic to learn about.

"The Sidhe (Shee) are an immortal race. They are the gatekeepers of Avalon, the Island of Youth. They are small, have wings, and are blue humanoids. They are masters of enchantments and are a cruel race of beings. There are kings, called Sidhe elders who are served by pixies.

To date, I believe I have encountered a Sidhe plot twice milord. Once one attempted to sacrifice you to the elders for their place back in Avalon, and another, was a changeling, that we eventually managed to get rid of with the child intact."

"We, Gaius?" Arthur said lightly, but he had a feeling he knew who was the other part of the 'we'. It bothered him how he hadn't thought to ask about Merlin's involvement in the magic problems of Camelot. It seemed that he and Gaius had been defending Camelot and even himself personally on occasion. He resolved to talk to Merlin as soon as the problem with the borders was solved. It was beyond time they had a little 'chat'.

Gaius looked flustered at the question, and hesitated to answer. Arthur took pity on him and gave him an out. He could pretty much guess already.

"I'll just take that as Merlin then shall I?" he said blandly, with only the slight hint of a smirk at the sheepish look on Gaius face. "So, what was the problem with the book then Gaius? You said there was reference to the Sidhe? So the Sidhe did this?"

"No, sire," Gaius said, getting back on topic. "The Sidhe aren't generally ones for taking children, or people. The people they do take are people of great respect in our society, nobles, royals, not peasants. They seem to value that blood over any other. And they only insert a Changeling into a child, and allow it to grow inside the child. They don't take the child. No, the reference to shadows I was looking up was indeed in this book, I distinctly remember this particular page. However, when I turn the page,"

Gaius demonstrated and Arthur peered at the page, trying to see what had Gaius so vexed. He was about to ask Gaius what on Earth he was looking at, when his eye caught the center of the spine. There was a piece of paper sticking out, small, barely noticeable, and it looked like a slight tear...

Arthur looked at Gaius then pointed to the spot, and Gaius nodded his head.

"It's been removed sire. I would say that somebody doesn't want knowledge of whatever these are being anywhere for us to find."

"Can you tell when it was removed? Surely, you can give a time of reference."

"I last looked at this book, a few years ago, to look up Sidhe, but I didn't turn the page. I don't know when exactly I looked at the page on the shadows. I could probably be at least 15 years..." Gaius trailed off, thinking. It was obvious to Arthur that Gaius was a bit upset about his book being defaced right under his nose. Gaius took great care of his possessions, and tried to not mistreat them. Arthur personally took it as a trait the old man had developed due to his physician experiments. One had to be careful, with the tools; otherwise he could do great harm.

"If you remember Gaius, come to me. Don't tell anyone else. Not even Merlin, you understand? For all we know, the perpetrator could have an agenda and is waiting for something like this. Keep it under your hat."

With that Arthur strode out of the Physician's room with thoughts centring on the raven-haired warlock. So many secrets...just what else did he keep close to his chest?

* * *

"OK," Gwaine announced as he bounced into Leon's room. "Meeting. Now"

"Shut the door first, Gwaine," Leon said with an air of tolerance. Dealing with Gwaine was like dealing with a hyperactive puppy. You just had to tolerate it, give it some attention and let it do its own thing sometimes. Even if that did include going to some lamentable tavern and having to put up with thousands of stories about barmaids, the clientele and did you seem that pretty one over there, oh wait, it's a man. There was a lot of ribbing for that one and it managed to shut Gwaine up. For about 1 week.

"Can I ask why we're here?" Elyan said, as Percival shuffled in behind Gwaine. Not successfully. He was a lot bulkier, and he struggled to hide behind a tree trunk, there was no chance of him hiding behind Gwaine.

"We have to do something about them," Gwaine said, flopping down in a chair. "Did you see them? I don't know about you but I detect tension. There's never any tension between Merls and the Princess. We go away for a couple of weeks, and everything goes wrong. I'm beginning to think we are essential to this place. It all falls apart without us"

"Are you sure we should be doing anything?" Leon asked cautiously. "It might just sort itself out." He saw Elyan nodding at this, and was pleased someone thought the same.

Merlin and Arthur's relationship was a peculiar one, but one that was accepted throughout the castle. Merlin almost never used the pleasantries and protocols a normal servant was supposed too towards Arthur. Oh, he used them, sometimes, but only to stuffy nobles.

Arthur had once complained that Merlin never respected him like he was supposed to and that, as a result, he was seen as less capable a prince as he couldn't even get his servant to respond to him. Merlin had shut him up at that though, by saying; did he want a bootlicker? When Arthur said it might be pleasant once in a while, he soon regretted it. Merlin had then proceeded to act the part of a perfect servant for the week, punctuated with 'sires', 'as you wishes' and the occasional 'of course, mi 'lord'.

It had ended with Arthur practically begging Merlin to stop it. Merlin had with a laugh. He then told Arthur the reasons he had for not following the normal protocols. He respected Arthur too much for him to give him such farcical obedience. He had said that he had heard the things the servants said in the halls and the kitchen, how many of them disparaged their masters behind their backs, while they served him with a smile.

"I don't want to do that to you. You deserve more than that, and it's dishonest to insult you behind your back when I won't do it to your face. If I'm displeased with you, you'll know it." He had then smiled beatifically. Leon, who had then been present for the begging (to ensure Arthur hadn't backed down) and the subsequent conversation. He had privately likened it to the ones he had seen from the preachers and priests and monks when they explained the glory of the new God. To Merlin, Arthur was his God, and he served him like the monks did. Arthur was everything. And he served him with everything he had.

That only made what was happening between Arthur and Merlin all the more volatile and worrisome. Merlin acting like this was akin to saying he was didn't trust or respect Arthur. Something had happened. And it had affected both sides. Arthur usually came to his senses between a few days, and their relationship regained its equilibrium. With Merlin, he came to his senses within anything from an hour or two to a week, but it didn't go on this long. This wasn't the usually spat. This was big. And it made Leon all the more wary of them interfering, in fear of the repercussions. To be honest, he couldn't even begin to fathom were the argument would of come from. The only thing that ever made Arthur like this was...

"Magic,"

The word echoed in the silence of the room. The taboo subject was mentioned. The knights all looked at one another wary. Magic wasn't something discussed. It was something avoided and something that they just accepted to be destroyed. Regardless of personal opinion.

Gwaine was instantly looked suspiciously at Leon.

"What do you mean 'magic'? You think magic is pitting them against each other like this?"

"No," Leon said hastily. "I just...The only thing Arthur and Merlin ever get weird over is magic. Arthur doesn't talk about it, and diverts conversation away from it. He rejects the notion that it can be used for anything good straight out of hand, like he can't afford to even entertain the thought. It's an uncomfortable topic for Arthur. With Merlin, he just seems to shy out of talking about it at all. You can get him to explain the dangerous magical creatures and how to fight against the magical attacks that always seem to plague us and Arthur. But try and get him to show his views on magic and he clams up and won't budge. You try and slip it into conversation and he'll manipulate the conversation, telling you massive amounts of things that mean absolutely nothing, and in 2 minutes you forget what you're trying to talk to him about in the first place"

"Here, here," Gwaine muttered with Elyan and Percival nodding their heads sympathetically. They'd all been on the end of the Merlin diversion; the art of speaking for ages you just want him to shut up, without actually telling you anything useful, true or relevant. It had infuriated them to no end, as no one could understand why Merlin did it. It was like a defence that he never seemed to let down.

"It's the only subject they never talk about," Leon continued. "They only subject they avoid talking about together. This has to do with magic if neither of them were willing to reconcile or even talk to each other. That's why I say leave it. Don't interfere. It'll eventually work out and Merlin will be back to disrespectfully respecting Arthur in no time."

Gwaine looked unsure but didn't seem willing to push it. Leon had known Arthur much longer than the rest of them. He knew what he was talking about as far as he was concerned, but Gwaine was more worried about Merlin.

He was Gwaine's first friend. Before Percival, Elyan and the Knights, he was just a rebelling second son. Another wastrel with a talent for trouble scamming his way through the bars in the land. He had despised the nobles he came from, full well knowing he was a hypocrite. But Merlin, with his stupid smile, and large ears had proceeded to pick him up and help him through a bar fight, along with the Princess. He made him discover Strength and Honour. He had changed him, and he was pretty sure he had touched the others as well.

He had certainly had an effect on Lancelot, God Bless his Soul. They had always seemed to have a bond, deeper than he had with the other knights. Gwaine had felt a bit jealous at first, but then, Merlin had such a big heart. There was enough room for the world in there. He had still hungered to know what the secret behind the bond was. Because Gwaine had seen enough of these to know when there was a shared camaraderie that came with knowing the secrets of the person you were with. All the things that made up you. Lance and Merlin had had this. It had made Lance be the first one to nod and agree with whatever outrageous story Merlin came up with. It had made Lance be the one who had made sure to follow Merlin when he went off.

Gwaine didn't know the secret that made them like this; it hadn't stopped him being envious.

"We'll leave it for now," Gwaine finally (grudgingly) gave in. But he couldn't help adding, "But if one of then suddenly decides to kill the other can I please step in then?"

The knights laughed and the air cleared, tension disappearing. They avoided further conversation of Merlin and Arthur and proceeded to start a rousing game of 'Who's Who' about the nobles. It was always fun trying to figure out the affairs of the court.

None of them noticed that the shadows writhed and pulsed. Dancing in the corner.


End file.
